Tuesday, January 2, 2007

In the meantime, everyone share your best story from New Year’s Eve. If you don’t have a good one, make something up. Because if made-up stories are good enough for my readers, they’re good enough for me.

(In case you missed what all the fuss is about, click the image to relive the moment over and over again – the start of another year, just like last year, but possibly worse, because who knows maybe you’ll be in an accident or something this year.)

We went flying, right in front of on coming traffic. He did a direct face plant, and I skimmed the asphalt in my new dress and shoes, scraping my palms. I looked up, was blinded by lights from oncoming cabs, and pulled him, bleeding, from the street.

He sat in a doorway while I ran upstairs and grabbed a towel so he could clean himself up. His blood was still outside the neighborhood crepery the next morning. It was also on my lace covered pumps.

Yes, we still hooked up, but I don't think I like him anymore. Happy New Year!

I was at a club in Denver, and when I was trying to leave in my limo, another vehicle pulled up and sprayed my limo with bullets, killing me.

(I might as well use that story, since Darrent Williams won't be able to.) (I might also add that I was actually IN Denver for New Year's Eve this year, so I'm already feeling kind of lucky that it wasn't me.)

I went to a house party that started out fairly tame. One guest brought some fireworks and threw one out into the back yard. Since they were just blackcats they weren't very festive - just annoying. Five minutes later I happen to look out the window and the entire yard is on fire. A couple of us ran outside and stomp it out while others grabbed buckets full of water.

I found my charred shoes yesterday morning. Unfortunately, I also woke up with food poisoning. I got up at 9 in the morning and threw up for 6 hours straight. The worst part was I had to move yesterday. The only thing I hate more than moving is moving while needing to vomit.

My best New Year's Eve would be the one a few years ago when I drank way too much and passed out before midnight. The best part was that right before I passed out, I was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom, talking to my boyfriend's older brother, when I casually leaned over and threw up all over the carpet. When he recovered from the shock and horror, he covered the mess with a towel, which I thought was a pillow for my benefit. In my drunkeness, I snuggled my face into the "pillow", realized my mistake, and then motioned for my dog to come over and eat the mess, all while the brother stood there and stared in disgust. I passed out immediately thereafter.

My New Year's Eve:Hundreds of thousands of screaming people in the streets of London, standing underneath Big Ben and listening to the bells chiming in Westminster Abbey. Loud music, insanely cool fireworks, people smoking weed (in the streets and on the bus ride home), people drinking straight liquor from bottles while loudly singing (not Auld Lang Syne), and then stumbling their way home without any fist fights as cops on horseback gently prodded the drunks down the streets. A normally 20-minute bus ride home takes 90 minutes instead - and having to pee in an alley because there was nowhere else to go.

Tired feet, awful hangover the next morning, realization that every New Year's Day since 1997 has involved a pounding headache and multiple trips to the bathroom. Started drinking Buck's Fizz (bottles of champagne and OJ)in the morning and resolved to continue this tradition again next year.

I dominated the party's open bar and then made out on the dancefloor to the Radiohead song "Idioteque." Which is actually a really difficult song to dance to, now that I think about it. To think we did it WHILE sucking face is really an accomplishment. I can only go down from here.

I must be the dullest person around... I have to clean. Usually starts around 10:30, then I clean until 11:55, like a mad woman who's expecting the queen to drop by. Well, at least no headache and I start the new year with a magnificently clean house...

I just love all of your stories, please, please, I need more, more, more!!

i horrified my missionary brother by proclaiming at 11:40 that we needed to get to the bar STAT so that I could find someone to kiss at midnight. We (friends, not me and my bro) made it to the bar - but it was at a ski resort so it was full of really hairy, smelly mountain men and the high altitude flatulence was in full effect. Needless to say - I made out with my champagne instead and enjoyed the best of friends who all agreed we were the hottest people there (and I NEVER get to say that in the bars at home!)

I also agree with meow. Guys quit being assholes. also, happy new year Dan. Where the hell is my link? also, i didn't drink new year's. so i'm amking up for it now. am druuuhnk. which is why i've done this damn nword verfication thing like 4 times now. ugh.

I won't get into specifics because Mi6 has me sworn to secrecy, but let's just say that I saved the world, made it with a hot chick, then won millions in a casino, which bankrupted a criminal organization bent on world domination. (some might say that I had an unenventful new years, then went home after midnight and watched porn, but that's just a coverstory).

Mine was straight glamourous. I was a third wheel in my couple friend's basement. I chugged Bud Light while desperately booty texting a virgin. They kicked me out to have their crazy New Year's sex. I then met up my little brother and his stoned 19 year old friends in an apartment parking lot. One of his friends and I hit up a party composed entirely of drunken horny girls. They declared their love for me, we all took shots and my companion got laid while I continued sending out drunken, sexually-explicate text messages to my virgin boy. V boy told me he was game and I quickly drove to his house and took away some (but not all) of his innocence. Can you say rockstar??? *sigh* Who am I kidding?

I filled a bathtub in a hotel up with booze and then drank most of that booze. I love saying booze.

So after that I climbed aboard an ironing board and was pulled down the hallway surfing. Surfing on an ironing board in a hotel is difficult and not safe. I fell. A lot. It was painful.

After throwing a girl to the ground twice because she was verbally assulting my friend a large biker came out of his room and told us to 'shut the fuck up' and that 'he better not have to come out and yell at us again.' I responded with 'I forgot you were my Dad.' He responsed with a knife. I ran and hide in my bathtub full of booze.

The Chicago streets had ZERO available cabs for me and my friend, and just when we were about to give up a limo asks if we want a ride. Great, right? There were 3 bad things about this limo

1. A suffocating smell of body odor.2. The cabby talked about how drinking and driving has been a BAD combination for him, which led to multiple incidents of hitting parked cars, which in turn led to his insurance company deeming him "uninsurable."3. He seemed drunk as he told us this.

Sorry if that was a rehash from my blog, but odds are you didn't read it, and it really was the most noteworthy event of the evening.

I went to my favorite New Orleans-crumbling-mansion/bar, cadged drinks off some old man who claimed to be very wealthy, then went to a house party where by 11:30 pm all that was left was a box of Franzia (classy!), and celebrated New Year's by avoiding midnight make-outs with some undergrad.

my new year's eve was wrapped in a haze of (literally) foreign substances. of the actual stroke of midnight, i remember very little, aside from the fact that there was a lot of champagne. i spent the night in paris surrounded by unrealistically beautiful people, but despite the lovely scenery, my fete was dominated by a run-in with an ex-not-exactly-boyfriend.

i know i'm not the only girl who has convinced herself that carly simon wrote the song "you're so vain" for her ex, but i think my case is especially juste as the french would say.

take the first line, for example: "you walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht." not only did he walk into the party as though it were a yacht, the party might as well have been a yacht. he was superb, dressed all in black, fine fabrics from head to toe. the party was, in a word, swank. it was overflowing with foie gras, courvoisier and, as i learned afterward, cocaine. i was completely out of place, a gauche and un-elegant american girl among cultured, worldly young europeans.

as far as the second line of the song goes, believe me, his fedora was "strategically tipped below one eye," though his scarf was black that night. he actually does own an apricot ascot, however. i teased him about it the one night he wore it in front of me.

just like the night we met, we ignored each other for several hours. both on the night we met two years ago and at this new year's party, i ignored him because i'm incredibly shy around attractive men and he's not only attractive, but intimidating. he ignored me the first time in order to make me chase him (you can imagine how well we worked as a couple), but this time he ignored me because he didn't want to talk to me. he told me as much at the end of the party when i confronted him. i asked him very directly why we weren't talking and he replied that he didn't realize that i expected so much (a conversation) from him.

this last meeting between us seemed totally unreal, and not only because he dared tell me that five minutes of his time was too much to ask. i'm pretty sure i had a contact high from at least one of the substances being smoked at the party--i really hope it was pot. since i've never smoked anything in my life, my head was spinning throughout the party and i remember falling at one point. in addition to the atmospheric influences operating on my senses, a bit of nostalgia lent a surreal feeling to our last conversation. you see, we had never properly broken up, so this was perhaps the closure i needed.

all these elements combined to give me the impression that i never saw him, though i'm sure i did. he exited my life almost as smoothly as he entered it, though i must admit I cried after the party.

among all his harsh words (i gave you the short version), he did manage to slip in a compliment: he likes my writing. he wants to keep receiving emails from me, not because he wants to know anything about me, but because he thinks i've got style.

Links

Now Reading

Everything Is Wrong with Me: A Memoir of an American Childhood Gone, Well, Wrong, by Jason Mulgrew

I promise that one of these days I will write a book. Well, promise is a strong word. But until that day (probably) comes, you can tide yourself over reading this blog-turned-book. Then when the day comes that some reviewer writes, "Daniel Murphy's new book is just like Jason Mulgrew's only without the good parts" you can be like, "Hey, I know what he's talking about."

Now Watching

The Bachelorette, ABC, 8:00 Mondays

You guys, I don't know if I can do it. There's a "Tattoo Count" on the guys' bio pages. And Ali is like Brittany Spears without the redeeming past. Can we really do this for ANOTHER season? Shouldn't someone just be like, "We've done this 16 times! HERE IS WHERE THE LOVE IS. You can stop looking for it now"? Ah, crap. There's a ukulele. Just when you think you're out, they pull you back in with their Indignity TreatsTM.

Now Listening To

Adam Arcuragi, I Am Become Joy“Bottom of the River”

My little sister, who officially became cooler than me sometime around her thirteenth birthday, sent me this video. If this isn't what music is all about, I don't know what is. (Intercourse? Maybe intercourse.)